


ours is a family that's based upon tradition

by goinghost, onetiredboy



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Other, Peter Nureyev Open Up Challenge, Roleplay Logs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinghost/pseuds/goinghost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetiredboy/pseuds/onetiredboy
Summary: For all the claims that she wasn't anyone's therapist, Buddy Aurinko had been known to borrow the mantle for a time. As her father always said, communication was how you talked the wolf out of sheep's clothing, and the reason Buddy Aurinko was so confident in her gathered crew was because she only recruited wolves.Fic & Chapter Titles from MIKA's Stuck in the Middle
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko & Peter Nureyev, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	ours is a family that's based upon tradition

**Author's Note:**

> hello guys ! jay here. i had this epic rp with danny (which is ongoing!) about forcing peter nureyev to talk about his FUCKING PROBLEMS. anyway. the tense switches a bit at the beginning because i kept screwing it up until danny just went along with present tense lol, so sorry for that, and thanks to danny for bearing with me.
> 
> in this chapter of the rp:  
> jay played: nureyev, juno & jet  
> danny played: buddy, vespa & rita! 
> 
> responses are separated with like. Extra Space

Buddy took a moment to look each of the members of her family in the eyes (or eye, in Juno's case). She regarded them all with an open and welcoming expression because that's what she'd been taught to do in these kinds of situations (of which Buddy made a habit of knowing what to do).

For all the claims that she wasn't anyone's therapist, she'd been known to borrow the mantle for a time. As Buddy's father always said, _Communication was how you talked the wolf out of sheep's clothing_ , and the reason Buddy Aurinko was so confident in her gathered crew was because she only recruited wolves.

"We're all here because I believe it's high time we discussed some things," she projected across the kitchen table, just as she'd practiced, "I'm not quite certain what those things are, although I have a good idea. As always, this is a forum for open communication. Anything you'd like to say to any other family member can be brought forward." She winked, "Do try to keep it civil. I'd hate for anyone to start another kitchen fire."

Rita made a small noise from her seat across from Buddy, "I'm gonna miss that toaster so much, Captain A, it lived a good life."

Nureyev eased back into his chair and steadied his breathing. These family meetings were a chore and nothing else, and had posed no real threat to him so far, but they tended to put him on edge nonetheless. Being around so many others undressed to their barest was only a familiar experience to him in a literal sense, and as far as he was concerned, was far worse when only metaphorical. Nureyev never knew quite what to expect to come out of their mouths. Even his Juno was often more verbal in these meetings than he was with even him, at times, and he lived in perpetual fear that one day some secret would slip from his mouth, or some of their more personal relationship issues would become free game for these vultures to pick apart.

The thing about vulnerability is that it is one of humankind's most innate false securities. There is a sort of primal desire to express one's inner thoughts and find them shared, soothed, attended to. To love and trust one another. If only human beings acted according to their primal nature. But biological essentialism is a dead theory, and the ugly truth of want and greed and the desire to _hurt_ is not primal, but it is overruling, and vulnerability only serves to stock up future ammunition. In this sense, the ability to disappear is an offensive skill as much as it is a defensive one; it is amazing what people will openly say to each other when they forget you are in the room. Some of the most damaging pieces of information he's ever picked up have been willingly thrown between friends over a lunch they'd long forgotten they'd invited him to.

That being said, he has never 'stocked up' during meetings like these. It felt gross and indecent, to soak up small insecurities of his crewmates just in case he ever needed to twist the verbal knife into them later down the track. Especially given a far more literal backstabbing was not outside of the realm of possibility. He already felt bad enough for that. So instead he plays the safe game: do not make eye contact, breathe shallowly, speak only if spoken to.

Buddy nodded at her family as they each brought up some concern or another they'd gotten in the past week since their last family discussion. Vespa, who was usually fairly quiet (from nerves, Buddy guessed) had even brought something to the metaphorical and literal table. In fact, this seemed to be the first week where everyone had _some_ personal trouble or piece of mind to share.

All except one, she noticed.

Buddy had noticed it rather frequently actually. In fact, it was beginning to be hard for her to not notice that Peter Ransom seemed to have an aversion to speaking honestly about his feelings. She expected this, of course. When one has a reputation as being nameless, one also has a reputation as being unwilling to be named. However, it had been weeks since their mission to free the Curemother Prime from the clutches of the corporate galaxy had started and Buddy didn't think she knew a single thing about Ransom that Ransom didn't obviously want her to know.

Yes, she knew how he took his coffee in the mornings (black), but that was because he deliberately brewed it while the entire crew milled about the kitchen. Yes, she knew about his elaborate skincare routine, but that was because he performed it at just the right time every morning that the pounding on the bathroom door for him to "get on with it already!" could be heard by everyone.

In short, she knew things about Peter Ransom, but she didn't know _things_ about Peter Ransom.

She allowed herself a brief moment to wonder if she should say something before she did just that. Rita's issue of having the rest of the crew actually help her pick a stream for stream night next time had been handily resolved by a grumbly hug from Juno and so Buddy clasped her hands and said, "Ransom, you've been awfully quiet this evening. Surely you must have something to share?"

Ah. Buddy Aurinko. The one consistent wrinkle in his otherwise flawless disguise. She is too quick for his good, and he has already had to make multiple changes in tactic around her to compensate for the holes she pokes in his cover. He deliberates for a moment on how to play this out, before deciding to play it safe--at least for now--with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"On the contrary, captain, I've been adjusting to life rather well so far aboard the Carte Blanche," Nureyev says, and pointedly ignores the nervous look Juno gives him out of the corner of his eye. "I've no concerns to share-- simply being an active listener has already helped me feel more like a cohesive unit of this team; a credit to your leadership."

Ah, so he was going with the bullshit tonight, it seemed. That was fine, Buddy Aurinko was nothing if not adept at bullshit considering how much of it she spewed herself. When she'd been prepping for this meeting, she'd considered this possibility. Buddy opened her mouth, "My, that _is_ something, isn't it, Pete. I've never met a single person who could live on a ship for almost two months, yet manage to not have a single concern about the many people who regularly argued over his credibility in all that time."

The others were silent, perhaps sensing the chess match that was unfurling at the kitchen table. Vespa was tense with the anticipation that Buddy knew she must be feeling. She had been looking for an excuse to let Ransom have it for days ever since a particularly obnoxious "poetry session" as Jet had called it. Buddy wasn't quite sure what this would turn into (an idea that did send a small sliver of fear through her mechanical heart. Buddy preferred to always know what any old conversation would turn into. It's how she stayed on top of them), but she did know that she was not concluding this discussion until she could name a fact about Ransom that didn't involve his morning routine or his elusive career as a thief. Really, she'd take knowing what planet on the Outer Rim he was from at this point. something so simple a child could tell her.

"Arguments concerning my credibility will only be settled when time proves my loyalties true," Nureyev answers calmly. _Or untrue,_ a voice in his mind chimes in, and he buries it quickly. The person he is playing on this ship has no plans to betray the Carte Blanche crew; _that_ particular little joy is Nureyev's own burden to shoulder. Regardless, it seems unlikely Buddy is going to let him off the hook that easily. And so, from defense to offense.

"If you'll allow me to recentre the conversation," Nureyev sits up a little straighter in his chair, "I might perhaps point out that you yourself have yet to share a concern with the crew. An honourable thief does not cast aspersions, but it occurs to me that placing oneself as mediator serves as a rather convenient way to remove oneself from the conversation, hm?"

"Ransom..." Juno sounds more exhausted than angry at him, but a quick look has him sinking back into his chair and silently fixing Nureyev with an investigative look.

Buddy felt that sliver of fear widen ever so slightly in her chest. Communication was an important part of any family, of course, but she found it unnecessary for those in her family to know her any more intimately than as a captain and a mentor (perhaps even as a parental figure). Her goal was to maintain appearances so well that one could hardly tell one was looking at a façade. Perhaps even so well that the façade became the true appearance in the end.

But Pete didn't need to know that. None of the Aurinkos needed to be aware of the struggles of Buddy's own mind when so much of their mission hinged on how well put-together that mind was. Yet if she didn't give an answer, she could feel some of the trust she had cultivated as a captain and a mentor and perhaps even a parent start to evaporate. This would not do. So Buddy tried to recall the last innocuous complaint she'd had and figure out a way to multiply by enough that it would be a sufficient soul-spilling to prove Ransom wrong.

"I would gladly share, Pete. Why, just the other day I remember you and Juno being quite loud with whatever you were doing at the time. On this crew, I'd prefer more consideration for our poor eardrums. I'm thankful you've made up so handsomely, but please keep in mind that we are _all_ part of this family and that we all live on this ship."

There. She was sure that should be sufficient.

No sooner were the words out of Buddy's mouth that Juno almost jumped right out of his chair. "Hey--" he managed, voice breaking, before he seemingly inhaled his own saliva and began to cough. Nureyev would perhaps have been a little more concerned if he weren't still locked in eye contact with Buddy Aurinko, his face and chest tight and hot.

The matter was resolved presently-- Jet reached one large hand out and slapped Juno once across the back, which didn't seem to stop his coughing attack so much as shock him so much that they momentarily paused.

Nureyev offered Buddy a thin smile. "This is precisely my issue with this exercise, captain. I think you'll find it would have been far less humiliating for you to have raised _that_ particular concern with Juno and myself directly, rather than in front of the rest of our coworkers. If you're quite done with the public shaming, I fail to see the purpose in my staying here any longer."

"I think you've illustrated the _purpose_ quite clearly, Pete." Buddy let her expression fall open and understanding, as it often did on these nights. "Your use of the word 'coworkers' says it all. I had been hoping by now that you'd see this crew as more than just that."

She tried very hard not to fidget with her clasped hands, knowing it might ruin the veneer of calm and communicative that she was attempting to give off right now. Still, she felt her foot tap silently to an unknown beat. "As I've said when we began this endeavor and many times since, we are a family. A family that may have rough spots and may have difficulties, but not one that cannot at least attempt to move past them. We are a family that tells each other things that may be uncomfortable for the sake of understanding that we will not be shaming _anyone_ for their behavior, but rather, informing them of mistakes and helping them rectify it when we can."

Buddy took a breath. "I'm sure you're aware of the basic psychological principle of punishment, Pete. As I'm sure you're also aware that it has been found empirically not to work. I do not aim to _punish_ any of you by holding these exercises. I merely hope to help you learn and grow. And I cannot do that if you refuse to be helped."

"Then perhaps you should take refusal as an answer," Nureyev countered. A low hum of anger was starting to bubble in his gut, because this wasn't fair. He refused to be cornered, like some stray, like some street child all over again. "Pardon me my doubts, _Captain_ Aurinko, but as far as my experience goes, people who shelter others in their facsimile of family under the pretence of helping them _learn_ and _grow_ are very nearly always forgetting to mention what it is they are expecting those people to grow _into_. Forgive me for not wanting to fall into that trap again so cluelessly."

He had started shaking at some point. Nureyev came back to himself suddenly, and closed his open mouth, stunned for once into a panicked silence both externally and internally.

Buddy felt temporarily triumphant at the crack in Ransom's walls before she fully registered the hurried, anxious tone he used. It seemed she'd struck a nerve, which had been her intent in the first place, but perhaps not at such an expense. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now, but soothe the nerve and coax something more from its damaged axons.

"Pete..." She trailed off, gathering her thoughts, "I believe you are misunderstanding this relationship. I don't need to mold you into anything more than what all of you are bound to become already. It's why I chose each and every one of you to be on this crew. I am hoping that being in an open environment can be productive for more than just our mission, but my ultimate goal remains the Curemother Prime and I believe that all of you are already in a position to help me achieve that goal."

Buddy gathered her wits. She breathed in through her nose. _It's showtime, Aurinko, you have to sell it._ "However, it is a fact that we are all suffering from our own personal baggage. While some of us have checked it, others travel with a carryon. As the Carte Blanche can only take so much weight, I employ these discussions to help empty those suitcases a bit. If you'll pardon the extended metaphor, darling, I believe your luggage has arrived on a different plane entirely. I only wish that you would level the playing field."

Buddy let out a practiced giggle, "Oh, look, now I'm mixing my extended metaphors as well."

Nureyev closed his eyes. He had to take a moment to breathe evenly out of his nose. There had been a split second there that he had been afraid she'd pieced together too much of his own history from that alone, as if she would somehow be able to recognise him just from the admission of a troubled past.

"Ransom," Juno says, "Hey. Maybe this is enough for now, alright?"

"Thank you, Juno, but I'm perfectly capable of holding my own," Nureyev says, centring himself again. He sees Juno flinch back a little, but now is not the time to show weakness.

"What would you have me do, then, Captain?" he asks, "Unpack myself here? I am sorry to disappoint your apparent need for some grand display of trauma, but if I am to use your own metaphor, I have always travelled light. If you have any particular insecurities you would like me to dissect in front of you, then by all means, raise your points and I will address them. However, I don't believe that my reticence to strew myself across the table has caused any particular _harm_ to this crew, and unless you mean to threaten my position here simply because I feel no need to raise my own trivial concerns in these conversations, I see no need to say anything further."

Buddy sighs. She considers Ransom for a few moments, trying to see a way to get him off the edge he is so determinedly dangling from. _Use that big brain of yours, Aurinko._ It's obvious--perhaps it was always obvious--that Ransom isn't going to topple the jar of his secrets and spill them all across the kitchen table. However, Buddy will not be deterred by the notion that he must confess to some great tragedy.

"I hardly need some grand display, as you've put it. Really, I would be satisfied with a simple admission of discomfort. Is there anything that's bothering you, Pete?" She attempts a placating smile, "Besides, of course, this conversation."

Nureyev sits back in his chair. He bites his tongue from making a scathing comment on his being bothered primarily by her nosiness. He is acting out because he is trapped, and he feels the pressure bear down on him stronger than any restraints any law enforcer has ever placed on him.

He cannot deflect. She is too smart for that. And he cannot say nothing. What's worse is that Peter Ransom was specifically created to have as little problems with the crew as possible, and he meticulously plans his aliases for a reason: improvising character choices is ill-advisable. One slip of the tongue and you end up having to live drinking strong, sour Uranian Green tea and staring wistfully at the coffee pot because you panicked and mentioned that tea was your favourite drink.

So it has to come from _him_ , and another challenge arises because when is the last time, really, that Peter Ransom checked in with Peter Nureyev? Perhaps a few times during his talks with Juno, but all of those have been that -- with Juno. About Juno. About _them_. He can't remember the last time he asked himself what is bothering him.

In the end, that's what comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. A little shaky, hastily-muttered, "I don't know." He feels the rattle of closed closet doors in the back of his mind and swallows, sitting up straighter in his chair, "If I had to choose," (and here he is slipping back into his performance), "Perhaps I might mention it would be nice to pick the stream one stream night. Or--"

He suddenly remembers that he _has_ chosen the stream night once before. He chose a documentary on Outer Rim archaeology. It was his favourite subject, a little guilty gift to himself. He'd even prepared answers to any questions Rita might ask. He did so hope she'd ask about Rithunian Singing Crystals-- he'd preemptively written down facts in his notebook so he could have sources when she asked.

Nobody had come to stream night except Juno. Vespa had called a bad brain night and Buddy had gone to attend to her, and Jet had looked Nureyev flat in the face and said 'no', and Rita had very conspicuously made a loud excuse about needing the bathroom for ('How long does that rock show go for again? Yeah, exactly that long'). Juno had fallen asleep with his head on Peter's lap five minutes in, and Nureyev had watched the documentary by himself, wishing he could disappear into the couch cushions.

"--perhaps not," Nureyev says quickly, a sinking feeling building in his heart. What is he doing, trying to open up? Even his _interests_ have proven too intolerable for the rest of the crew. He can't imagine how they'd receive his insecurities. "That's a trivial complaint."

Buddy sees the moment Ransom checks out from the conversation. She watches as he decides to entertain the notion of responding and the moment his response is deemed inadequate in his own eyes. Now, that simply won't do.

"Darling," Buddy says, with as much matronly gusto as she can manage, "I don't think anyone here would begrudge you a "trivial complaint" or two, as you put it. I'm sure you've heard their fair share of trivial complaints, although I caution all of you from acting as if a complaint being trivial somehow lessens it's value as something to be bothered by." She waves a hand in the air idly, "Who only knows how many times I've been bothered by something as silly as the way one of you puts away dishes."

"What really matters, Pete," Buddy says, "is that it's coming from the heart, and it's something we could all work on. Obviously venting is acceptable, but I want these discussions to be something productive. I believe letting you pick the stream and all of us actually staying to _watch_ it--" Silently, she hopes that she's managed to get the crux of the matter correct, "--is a perfectly fine use of our time here."

Nureyev offers her a tight-lipped smile, "That's kind of you, Captain, but I can't expect to hold you all captive to something you're simply not interested in. I'm afraid I don't quite--"

 _Fit in._ His throat closes over the words, and it's a good thing it does because a wave of emotion chases the words up and pools at the blockage until he can feel it in his neck. How... peculiar. It seems he's stumbled across quite a sensitive issue. He fidgets, trying to swallow down the feeling without letting it show.

"My... particular fascinations aren't common," he says finally. He doesn't need to be saying this, either. He could simply choose a movie he knows the others will like and then they will all think he has normal interests too and they will bond with him. Or. They will bond with the lie he tells them, but that _is_ the cost of socialising, sometimes.

It occurs to him that perhaps when the only time people will talk to you is when you are pretending to be something you're not, it's because the person you _are_ isn't... well.

Well. That's a fact of his life. Peter Nureyev has never been the centre of attention for a reason. There is a reason he has to pretend to be somebody else to get anywhere.

"Ransom, I dare say none of ours are," Buddy knows she is getting _somewhere_ with this line of questioning. The only matter is of how long Peter is willing to go to that place. Not very long, if his responses are anything to go off of.

"Just last week, I specifically remember sitting through those horrible _Bad Cop_ movies that Juno is so fond of. I can't seem to recall any objections anyone had at the time." Buddy gestured around the room with an outstretched arm, "None of you are here because you are common. You are here because your skillsets are unique. I don't see how that couldn't apply to more than just your handiness with a knife or the quieting of your footsteps."

 _Bring it home, Aurinko._ "Though I wonder why you seem to have singled yourself out in a lineup as unconventional as this."

"Okay," Juno starts, "Can I just say? The _Bad Cop_ movies are underrated. Tell her, Ransom."

"Um," Nureyev says to Juno, stalls for a moment, and then decides cordially on, "They certainly have their place."

"Ha," Juno looks momentarily satisfied, and then the look freezes and contorts into offence, "Wait a minute--"

Peter directs the conversation back to Buddy before Juno can finish the sentence, "I don't think it's a secret that I am not particularly anybody's _favourite_ crew member."

"Not anymore," Juno mumbles to himself, "Rita appreciates _Bad Cop_..."

Nureyev continues undeterred, "We are all unique, yes, but truthfully, what outside of our working relationship do I have in common with anybody here? What am I liked for outside of my professional skills? Certainly not my musical prowess. Not my taste in movie. Not even in my attempts at casual talk. Captain Aurinko, the only interest I have in common with anybody on this ship is sharing a love for the Ruby 7 with Jet, and if I step within fifty metres of the garage, Jet glares at me for the rest of the night."

At this, Jet shifts in his seat uncomfortably, "The Ruby 7 cannot be trusted with just anyone."

"Perhaps it's simply my lack of experience with having a family at all-- I suppose dead parents do wonders for stunting emotional growth-- but whatever it is that has you all able to be unique together, I don't have it. And you don't even _know_ me that well," Peter says, and then a cut-off laugh escapes him. "You expect me to bare myself further to you all? Forgive me, Captain, but I'd prefer maintaining professional courtesy with you all than it shifting to a complete and certain dislike."

Buddy considers this, or at least appears to. It seems Ransom is doing some soul-bearing after all. "Once again, I think you are missing the _point_." She takes a breath, "Do you know what allows everyone on this ship to get on as we do? We talk to each other. We have these family meetings. We _trust_ each other. Not only with our lives but with out emotions. We allow ourselves to be vulnerable with each other."

Buddy rotates her hand in the air, as if trying to grasp the words, "You participate in the family activities we have, but mechanically, as if going through the motions again. You're right, Pete, we _don't_ know you that well. But I'll ask you why it is that we don't know Peter Ransom--or rather, the man who calls himself Peter Ransom--when we should all be growing closer just by virtue of being on this mission?”

_Because I cannot trust you. Because you all cannot trust me. Because I am not safe here, despite the way Juno makes me feel. Because it has been so long since I tried that I am scared I'll find I don't know how to make real friends, anymore. Because not even I know who Peter Nureyev is._

All of these thoughts jumble in Nureyev's head. They all are, of course, too dangerous to speak out loud, and he doesn't give them any extra time to stew, either. He clears his throat, pushes them away, drops his eyes to the table, and sits back in his chair. "Well. I suppose I had thought I _was_ trying. Regardless, Captain, I hear your words and will take your feedback onboard. Is that all?"

_Is that all?_ He asks, as if Buddy cannot see the gears turning in that mind of his. _No Ransom_ , she thinks, _That is not_ all, _as I'm sure you could tell me._ She tries not to give any signal of her contemplation away. Something to discuss more privately later, that much she is sure of, but she is done torturing the poor man for now.

Out loud, Buddy says, "I think we've sufficiently found the root of a problem, one of many that I assume plagues the mind of Peter Ransom." Her eyes twinkle when she says, "Or perhaps he is less human that I'd previously thought. Regardless, thank you for sharing what you have tonight, darling. It seems now all that's left to do is address what exactly your definition of _trying_ is and how it differs from those of us who are _trying_ to get to know you."

Nureyev can't meet her eyes. Nor can he quite convince himself to meet the eyes of any others. "Well then," he says, and stands up, pushing his chair back. "I'll see you all the next time our fortnightly humiliation session is due."

He walks away briskly, trying to avoid being stopped on his way back to his room to debrief.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it through this you are a HERO ik the roleplay format isnt that fun to read! please comment if you liked it so we are encouraged to finish up chapter 2 which will include peter and juno Talking TM!


End file.
